


Stripping Down

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Strip Tease, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3679752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy tries to get back into his wife's good graces by performing his first ever striptease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stripping Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leigh_adams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh_adams/gifts).



> Written for Humpfest 2015 at [](http://hp-humpdrabbles.livejournal.com/profile)[hp_humpdrabbles](http://hp-humpdrabbles.livejournal.com/)

Percy Weasley was in serious trouble. If only his predicament were simple, like mediating a feud between rival factions of the Wizengamot, or rewriting hopelessly outdated and convoluted legal statutes, or stamping out the sale of dangerously thin cauldron bottoms. (A menace to Potions makers everywhere those were!) He thrived on those types of problems, all of which he handled as part of his critical position as Minister of Wizarding Law. But no, this particular crisis was far worse and the consequences dire, namely he might lose his right to sleep on his very comfortable pillow top mattress and, worse yet, he might never have sex again. Obviously, strong and immediate action was required.

While one of the things he loved most about his wife of five years was her rationality and practical nature, apparently even Padma had her limits.

Admittedly, the quill and parchment set he'd given her for Christmas did not scream romance. And he still felt rather guilty about falling asleep at his desk and missing her birthday dinner. They'd never gone out of their way to celebrate Valentine's Day before, so he hadn't noticed when February fourteenth came and went without poem or posy. However, the tipping point had been when he forgot their five year anniversary, arriving home late from work to find Padma sitting stiffly on the sofa, two thirds of a bottle of champagne already gone and her sexiest nightgown covered by her ratty old dressing gown.

She hadn't screamed or scolded him. In fact, she'd barely said a word. But even love-dense Percy noticed the hurt expression on her face, and finally he put it all together.

Just because your wife was straight forward, practical, and even more of a workaholic than you were (which in this case was saying quite a lot!), it didn't mean you could let romance slide entirely. (Even if she really needed new stationery and even if she rolled her eyes over celebrating romance on an arbitrary day in February.)

Which left Percy with only one choice. He had to seduce his own wife, romance her so completely that she forgot all about his previous missteps. Some flowers, some chocolate, maybe he'd even stifle his miserly tendencies and buy a bottle of her favourite champagne, even though it cost a ridiculous sum of money and, despite her fervent insistence, he couldn't taste any difference.

That Friday he put his plan into action. Armed with over-priced roses; an enormous box of chocolates; a bottle of disgustingly expensive bubbly; and his best underpants, Percy made his move.

Padma's reaction to his romantic overture was less enthusiastic than he'd hoped. She smiled politely and thanked him, but it was obvious that he needed something more—something bigger and … that was it! He'd recreate _her_ original seduction, back when they'd started seeing each other.

At his insistence, she kicked off her heels and curled up on the sofa with a generous glass of her fancy champagne and a couple chocolate truffles. He took a deep breath and turned on the wireless. Familiar opening chords rang through the room and Padma's eyes widened.

Percy began swaying his narrow hips in time to the music. He hoped that Padma's twitching eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her cheek were good signs, but he wasn't quite sure, having never tried anything like this before. With renewed determination, he reached up and began gently pulling on his tie, loosening it and easing it slowly free from its perfect Double Windsor. He finally pulled the long length of silk around and off his neck with a grand flourish and waved it in the air. He hesitated for a moment when he had completed the gesture, the realisation that he was now meant to throw down the tie hitting him for the first time. If he had thought it through, he would not have worn some of his nicest clothes for this, but there was nothing for it now! Biting his lip, he sashayed awkwardly a few steps to the right so that when he tossed the tie it landed on an armchair instead of the carpet.

His rhythm thrown off from his impromptu move, he furrowed his brow and concentrated on getting his hip sways back on beat before bringing his hands up to his collar. Padma had always told him how sexy she found his hands, so he wiggled his long fingers a little bit and then carefully undid the first button. Emboldened by her smile, he finished the entire column, making sure to showcase his slender fingers every step of the way.

He raised both hands above his head and unbuttoned the cuffs, trying to keep a sexy expression on his face despite the odd angle and the fact that the left cuff button was being particularly stubborn. Then he gave a dramatic shrug and let the shirt fall from his shoulders. He pulled both arms from the sleeves in a teasing fashion but couldn't quite bring himself to throw the designer shirt onto the floor.

Blushing fiercely, he muttered, "this is a fifty Galleon shirt, so I just …" as he paused to drape it carefully over the armchair. Hurrying back to his position in the centre of the room, he removed his white undershirt, making a point to hurl it to the ground to show that he was fully committed to his first ever striptease.

It wasn't until he'd removed his belt, undone his flies, and was pushing his perfectly pressed trousers down his legs that he realised his shoes and socks were still on. He tried to toe off his wingtips then cursed silently when he remembered he'd worn shoes with laces today. Yanking his trousers back up, he gave his wife a too-large grin and tried valiantly to wink, but mostly just screwed the left side of his face into a grimace. He doffed his shoes and socks quickly and then went back to sliding his grey trousers slowly down his long, lean legs. He flushed a little, noting with pleasure that Padma noticed and approved of the snug little pants he was wearing—the navy blue ones that she'd picked out for him, claiming they would accentuate his package and look amazing with his pale, freckled skin and deep blue eyes.

Encouraged by her smile and rapt attention, he threw his trousers to the floor, wincing only slightly as the fabric collapsed into a wrinkled heap. Padma bit back a laugh, so he forced himself to ignore his trousers and moved his hips with renewed fervour. He began to pull down the fancy pants, mentally admitting that Padma was right—his package really _did_ look fantastic under the thin, clingy material. With a bit more enthusiasm, he shimmied out of the shorts, but when he tried to step out of them, he stumbled and wound up shaking his right foot furiously trying to get the bloody things off of him. Damn clinging pants! He managed to right himself and not fall face first onto the floor, but it was a narrow victory. With a frustrated sigh, he bent over and snatched the offending article from his ankle. Trying to recover the sexiness of his dance, he twirled the pants around on his finger and let out a mild curse when they went flying into a lamp, causing it to teeter precariously.

Now completely starkers, he paused, not sure what else was expected in a proper striptease. He tried another little hip shake but stopped when Padma laughed.

"No, no, it's wonderful, love," she assured him. "Now get over here!" He stood frozen for a moment, mesmerised by her small fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse with far more grace than he'd just demonstrated. It fell open revealing a lacy black bra hugging her breasts, and Percy was hit by the realisation that it had been far too long since they'd done this. Far too long since sex had been anything other than a perfunctory release without any of the pretty trappings or foreplay or _fun_. Striding towards her, he vowed that he would never let them fall into that rut again.

They shared a heated gaze then Percy buried his face between the lace-covered mounds on Padma's chest, nuzzling and kissing and whispering how much he'd missed this, missed _her_. When he felt her sigh with pleasure, the stress of the day falling away as she succumbed to his ministrations, he began licking a languorous path down her belly, pushing up her proper black skirt, and grinning when he saw the matching black knickers. Mouthing his way over the lace, he gently pushed apart her knees, nestling his shoulders between her strong thighs, and let his mouth and fingers talk for him. Each lick an apology, each nibble a song of praise, each flick of his tongue a reassurance, and each twist of his fingers a promise.


End file.
